Various Narnia drabbles: PeterEdmund
by oh sweet lily beans
Summary: Various Peter/Edmund Narnia drabbles. GENERAL WARNINGS: Incest, slash, language, suggestive content.
1. Forbidden: red

**Forbidden (red)**

Peter/Edmund, rated PG, fluff.

Warning: slash, incest.

Peter had never liked apples. Years of church had drilled into his mind that apples were the forbidden fruit, sin itself. Edmund never listened to rules: he always ate apples. If Peter stared at him as he did so, it was only because he was afraid for his brother. It wasn't the way the juice dribbled down his chin, nor the way his lips were red and moist when he smiled at Peter -

- and it certainly wasn't the way Edmund kissed him freely under an apple tree on the night of their coronation, either.

(Peter liked apples, though, after that.)


	2. Rose Red

**Rose-Red**

Peter/Edmund, rated PG, flangst.

Warning: slash, incest, language.

The blood pools around the wound, stains bright roses on his skin. His face pales, eyes closing gently, body weakening.

When Lucy administers her cordial - blood-red - his body goes in reverse. The blood ceases staining his skin, leaving it pure and fair; his face draws more life, lips blossoming rose-red and eyes opening, sparking like wildfire.

Peter always loved roses, and he cannot help but kiss Edmund's rosy mouth when he is born again. "Fuck, Edmund, just do as you're told," he chokes out, kissing him again.

Edmund thinks that maybe he will, if this is the reward.


	3. Rising Sun

**Rising Sun**

Peter/Edmund, rated PG-13, fluff.

Warning: slash, incest, suggestive content.

His first night in Peter's bed, not like they were when they were children, and _I love you_ slides off Peter's tongue as easily as the sheets over Edmund's skin, and just as often. Skin has goosebumps - it's still new.

Peter falls next to him, breathless, and folds the sheets over them. Eyes looking at each other, locked, _we really did this, didn't we_ unspoken. (_Finally_.) Is Edmund blushing?

He wakes up, lines in the bed where Peter had been. Peter pushes open the bathroom door, _Hi, Ed_, like old days, except now he smiles shyly. "Good - good morning," Edmund replies, clearing his throat of sleep, voice soft in morning.

Edmund finds his clothes across the floor and some tangled in the sheets, puts them on one-by-one, all rumpled. He doesn't know what to do, so he waits, places their crowns at the foot of the bed. They look beautiful there, together.

Peter's done bathing, he comes out, towel hanging just barely from his hand, he drips on the floor. Rummages through drawers, looks at Edmund and smiles. He changes in the bathroom, and comes back out, looks at Edmund seriously.

_Kneel_, he says, and Edmund obeys. Peter takes Edmund's crown from the foot of the bed, places it atop Edmund's head. "King Edmund," he says, "rise." He does.

Peter places a kiss to his forehead like he always does when he crowns his brother, a kiss to his temple and the corner of his eyes and a deliberate one to his mouth like he always wanted to. _We really did this_, and Edmund is most certainly blushing, now. Peter asks if he might escort Edmund back to his chambers to dress properly, and Edmund bows his head in assent.

(Hand-in-hand out the door and through the world.)


	4. to sleep, perchance to dream

**to sleep, perchance to dream**

Peter/Edmund, rated PG-13, fluff.

Warning: slash, incest, suggestive content.

An early-morning meeting. He'd spent the night with Edmund; he's tired. Not that he could complain - but when Edmund walks into the meeting after returning to his room to change, Peter blushes. Their visitors ride out in the drizzle. Peter eats a bit of apple and tells his sisters he will retire for the rest of the day. Edmund is nowhere to be found.

The rhythmic thumping of the rain on the windows in the corridors reminds him of the night before, the sounds of Edmund's breath and the constant motion of his body. He clears his throat, tries to forget, and it echoes through the hallway.

But he can't forget, because he opens the door to his chambers, sees the Just King lying on the newly-made bed, mouth open slightly, crown tilted against the pillows. If Edmund were to move his head, it would fall off completely.

Peter goes to him, removes the crown and Edmund is just a boy now, young and carefree and it reminds him - almost - of those nights of bomb shelters, and they couldn't get to sleep afterward. Except there are no air raid sirens here, but still, Peter thinks the only way he can get back to sleep is if Edmund is beside him - like he always was, always has been.

Crowns on the bedside table, rain on the windows, two boys stretched out on a bed, comforter wrapped around them. Brothers, it seems to Susan and Lucy, who find them later, but the way Edmund's body seems involuntarily to press against Peter's, to curl into his brother - like there's nothing better - says otherwise. (Even the golden crowns, metal and jewels pressed close together, say differently.)

Nothing else important is happening today. They can sleep all day, forever.


	5. The Art of Kissing

**The Art of Kissing**

Peter/Edmund, hinted Caspian/Susan, PG, fluff.

**Warning(s):** Incest, slash.

Edmund finds Peter half-asleep in a secluded compartment. "Pete?" His brother makes a sound, something like a snore, and starts.

"Oi, Ed. What's up?"

"I was just, er, wondering," he begins. "Susan and Caspian? Am I the only one who didn't see it coming?"

Peter laughs. "Surprised? I actually thought it was rather callous of them both, you know, considering - er - "

"Have you ever kissed anyone, Peter?"

"What?" His brother blushes brightly. "Why does it matter, Ed?"

"Do you like it?"

"Ed! I've never - not really. Not - not like _that_."

"Me neither. It looked _gross_, that's why I was - " he imitates his earlier open-mouthed, staring-eyed face of before. "My _sister_. Yeuch!"

Peter laughs at him.

"Why's it so great, anyway? It looked all slobbery."

"I suppose it is."

"But you don't _know_."

"Well, no."

"Do you want to try?"

He thinks first _yes_, and then realizes maybe Edmund meant _them_. The two of them. _Together_. Wasn't that illegal?

"Don't be ridiculous! We can't."

Edmund stands to sit next to Peter, dangerously close and looking at him with intent eyes.

"No, Ed. We _can't_."

Maybe -

"Just pretend."

Peter looks behind his brother for a moment at the compartment door. He tentatively puts his hand on Edmund's cheek and thinks he would, thinks he _could_ stop this juggernaut if he wanted to.

He leans forward to put his mouth near his brother's cheek. "There," he whispers lightly, "that's as much as I'll do."

Edmund turns his head slightly and his lips brush Peter's. Peter, surprised at the contact and maybe slightly angry (and completely embarrassed), gasps thickly. And then, somehow - maybe because it's like a thunderstorm, lightning striking so close it lights up the sky and so far it's still beautiful - Peter presses back, and leans into Edmund.

Peter means to say something more, like "We can do this, and should," or perhaps even "This isn't gross at all, really," but his brain ceases working. Maybe it was the lack of air or the feeling of the apple under his tongue or the way the train is moving underneath them, against them like a current.

Maybe for the next few years or even the rest of their lives they find spare time to sneak away from everyone and into one another.

Maybe Edmund finds out what's so great about kissing after all.


End file.
